


Name and Number

by LonghornLetters



Series: Stony NFL AU [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And Steve's getting a tattoo, Established Relationship, M/M, NFL AU, Steve is the face of the franchise, Tony owns the team, or two, they're disgustingly in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27872941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonghornLetters/pseuds/LonghornLetters
Summary: Steve's established in the NFL and established in his relationship with Tony.  That can only mean one thing...time for ink and promises!
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Stony NFL AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682194
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60
Collections: STB Bingo: Round One





	Name and Number

**Author's Note:**

> This fills the I-5 square on my STB Bingo Card - Tattoos
> 
> While this does exist in the Blind Side Tackle universe, you don’t need to be familiar with the main story at all beyond these three facts:  
> 1...Steve is an NFL quarterback.   
> 2...He’s the face of the franchise for the New York Avengers, which Tony owns.   
> 3...They are disgustingly in love. 
> 
> Yes, I know Tower of Terror at Disneyland is now called something else, but I’m retro-cool, so it’s Tower of Terror.
> 
> The Lombardi Trophy is what you get when you win the Super Bowl...or, well, your team gets it. My first thought when they award it is how quickly that thing gets all finger print-y.
> 
> Why, yes, yes I did steal a couple of the placements of CE’s actual tattoos for two of the tattoos Steve has.
> 
> Thanks to Betheflame for validating my life choices and JehBeeEh for quick, no context help and Stella for being the best thot supplier a gal could dream of. 
> 
> This one’s unbeta’d...we die like (wo)men.

“So did you really get to go to Disneyland for free?” Tony asked when he turned up on Steve’s doorstep late Saturday afternoon two weeks after the Super Bowl.

Steve nodded. “It’s apparently the worst kept secret in professional sports.” He locked the door behind him and slipped his arm through Tony’s. He smiled. “It was fun. I missed the handle when I went to grab it on Tower of Terror and almost unbuckled my seatbelt.”

Tony trapped his arm against his side like that would retroactively keep Steve from accidentally ejecting himself from a thrill ride. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Steve shook his head with a sheepish smile. “That moment by itself was scarier than the actual ride.”

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days, Final Destination.”

Steve squeezed Tony’s arm right back. “Promise I won’t...at least, not intentionally.”

A few blocks down and a couple over landed them in front of All Wolves No Sheep tattoo and body piercing, and Tony blinked up at the neon sign, somehow surprised by where they’d ended up.

“I thought you were kidding,” he said.

Steve shook his head. “Nope. Team agreement. When we won, we’d get the number.” He took a breath, steadying himself. “I’ve been planning something else too, so it just made sense to wait till the end of the season.”

Tony smirked. “Efficiency. I like it.”

Inside the shop, they shed coats and Tony wandered away to look at the flash on the walls while Steve went over to speak with the young man with artificially red hair at the counter, the weight of the slip of paper in his pocket almost overwhelming.

“Can I help you?” Red asked from his spot perched behind the counter.

Steve nodded. “I’d called and spoken to Carla about getting two small pieces done?”

Red consulted the appointment book for a moment before he looked up with a smile. “You must be Steve.” He grabbed a clipboard with waivers on it, but when he handed it to Steve, he didn’t let go. “Wait...you’re _Steve_. Steve _Rogers_.”

Steve nodded and took the clipboard when he finally released it. “I am.”

“Dude. That game. My friends and I _lost our shit_ when you ran in that last touchdown.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re _here_.”

Steve laughed down at the pages explaining what the shop wasn’t liable for and how if he failed to give his new art proper aftercare it would ruin both the piece and his health. “Carla did my first tattoo. And it’s beautiful. So I wouldn’t go anyplace else.”

“Your cheque’s in the mail,” Carla said as she came out from the back, grinning widely at him. “Congratulations on the win, Steve.” 

“Thanks, Carla.”

“Now come on over, and let’s get you some more ink,” she said then turned to lead him over to her workstation, tapping on her tablet as she walked. “Now I know we spoke about two pieces, but you mentioned having trouble sourcing one. Any luck?” 

Steve fished the redacted document Karen had copied for him out of his wallet before he took a seat in her chair. “Yeah. Turned out I had a gal on the inside.”

Carla laughed as she examined the paper then set it face down on her scanner. “This is perfect. Nice, high quality copy.” She glanced up at him. “And the second?”

“Just like we discussed,” Steve said as he got comfortable. “I sent you the image of the logo while we were on the phone so you could pull what you needed.”

“And you’re sure you want just the numbers? No Lombardi Trophy? I did up both, just in case.”

Steve shook his head. “Just the numbers.”

She nodded as she rolled back to grab her stencils off the printer. “You want the numbers on the inside of your forearm, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Facing you or not?” she asked as she started running the tiny disposable razor over the inside of his throwing arm.

“Facing out.”

“And the other?” She asked quietly, glancing over at Tony to make sure he was still out of earshot.

“Under my collarbone.” He smiled at Tony as he inched towards them, now examining the individual artists’ work. “Something just for me, like my mom.”

She glanced up from placing the stencil for his Super Bowl win and gave him a wink. “Hopefully not _quite_ the same.”

Steve wrinkled his nose at her, but he laughed too. “You’re the worst.”

Carla laid out her ink, attached the needle she needed and nodded. “Okay, arm first, big guy.”

Tony hovered in for a landing right as Carla swiped off the first strokes’ worth of excess ink. “I will never understand this whole...team ritual thing.”

“That’s because you don’t play well with others,” Steve said, letting Tony pick up his free hand and turn it between his own idly while Carla worked. 

Tony reared back, making a show of being affronted. “I am a delight and a joy to all who encounter me.”

Steve reeled him in with his free hand and kissed his temple. “Of course you are...still doesn’t mean you’re good at teamwork.”

“Lies. Lies and slander,” Tony insisted. 

Carla wiped the last of the excess ink off his arm and sat back. “What do you think?”

Steve looked at the LVII inked neatly on his arm just under his elbow. “It’s perfect.”

She came at him wielding a half-empty tube of Aquaphor, dabbed a bit onto the fresh work, then taped down a stretch of plastic wrap over it. “Good. Now, shirt off and lay back,” she ordered.

Steve stood up and pulled his shirt over his head while Carla lowered her chair and locked it in a fully reclined position. Steve grimaced at the sticky, peeling feeling of his skin against the pleather upholstery when he laid down then immediately shifted his shoulders to try to get more comfortable.

“What’s going under here?” Tony asked, eyeing Steve’s bare torso.

Steve shrugged, trying desperately to keep a straight face. He wanted so badly to surprise Tony after all. “Just...y’know…”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be ask--” he scowled down at his vibrating phone and tapped the answer button. “Hello?”

Tony leaned down and kissed Steve’s cheek while whoever was on the other end of the phone spoke in a swift, clipped tone. “I’m gonna step outside so I don’t bother you and Carla.”

Steve nodded.

“Jocasta, did you burn my tower down?” Tony asked as he made for the front of the shop

Once the door shut behind him, Carla rolled back, stencil and razor in hand. “That was lucky,” she said with a conspiratorial smirk then bent to start shaving the skin under his collarbone. 

“I’m not even sure why I want this to be a surprise,” he admitted while Carla fiddled with getting the stencil placed just right. 

She shrugged. “Easy. You love him.” She held up a mirror to show him the stencil. “How’s that?”

“Of course I do,” Steve agreed easily. “And that’s just where I’d pictured it.”

“You’ve been together a hot minute, haven’t you?” She asked as she fitted a new, clean needle and opened a new container of black ink. 

“Since I was a rookie, yeah,” Steve agreed under the buzz of the first strokes of ink into his skin.

“You guys ever talk about getting hitched?”

Steve twitched his free shoulder in a half shrug. “Sometimes. But it’s all abstract.” He sighed. “I still ask myself what he sees in me sometimes.”

Carla shook her head down at Steve’s chest. “I figured out right quick with my Raul that there’s never a simple answer to that question.” She smiled fondly. “But sometimes love shouldn’t be examined like a balance sheet.”

“You charge extra for therapy?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Never finished my degree. I figured out about halfway through that with the amount of time I spent drawing during class instead of taking notes, social work probably wasn’t for me.”

“Can’t argue with results,” Steve said. “What does Raul do?”

She laughed. “He’s a commodities broker if you can believe that.” 

She set down her machine and smiled down at Steve’s chest then passed him a mirror. “Take a look.”

He smiled at the sharply detailed result, the mix of clean lines and organic curves. He reached up to touch the swooping undercurve of the S, but Carla smacked his hand away. 

“No touching. You know that.” She smeared another dab of Aquaphor on his chest and taped down more plastic film over it. “Get dressed before your man comes back in here and spoils your surprise.”

Steve obediently tugged his shirt back on while Carla started going over the aftercare instructions. He trailed after her voice back up to the counter where he paid, left an obscene tip, and finally accepted the little bag with his care notes and a tube of lotion. Tony poked his head back in right as Carla finished her spiel and frowned at the two of them.

“I missed it?” he asked, disappointed. “Can I see?”

Steve wrapped an arm around Tony’s shoulders. “I’ll show you when we get home.”

“But--”

“Home,” Steve insisted as he tugged his coat back on. He hugged Carla and kissed her cheek. “You’re the best. Thank you.”

“No more than two hours under that plastic and wash your hands before you touch it,” she called after them.

Back at the house, Tony led the way into the house, then started dragging Steve up the stairs by his belt buckle before he could turn any downstairs lights on. “Can I guess what the chest piece is?”

Steve laughed. “Sure. Try and guess.”

“A giant Lombardi Trophy?”

Steve shook his head

“A gecko dressed like Michigan J. Frog?”

“I don’t even know what that is.”

”...Maria Hill as a vintage pinup girl?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s sexual harassment.”

Tony opened his mouth to, presumably, guess again, but Steve swept him up in his arms, laughing. He dumped Tony on the bed then crawled up after him until he could straddle his waist

“You’ll never guess, so why don’t I just show you, hmm?”

Tony snuck his fingers up under the hem of Steve’s shirt as he nodded. “I’ve always appreciated a good visual.”

Steve leaned over to turn on the bedside lamp, gasping quiet breath when Tony’s fingers crept higher under his shirt. He sat back and tugged his shirt off for the second time that night, suddenly nervous Tony wouldn’t like the one on his chest.

Tony sat up, fingers dancing around the edges of the plastic wrap. “Is this...how did you…?”

“Karen gave me a redacted copy of something you’d signed recently,” Steve answered. He turned to lean up against the headboard, dragging Tony into his lap. “D’you like it?” 

Tony continued to explore the edge of the covering, his eyes wide. “Do I--can I touch it?”

Steve smiled. “Gently and only over the plastic.”

Tony nodded, and then he finally, finally let a single finger trace the lines and loops of his own signature, inked into Steve’s chest. “I love it.”

“Idle speculative curiosity,” Tony eventually said from his spot on Steve’s lap. He’d settled down with his head on Steve’s shoulder, but he couldn’t stop touching the film covering his own signature.

“Hmm?” Steve hummed to indicate he was still awake and paying attention.

“How sore are you?”

Steve grinned against the top of Tony’s head. “Not any worse than after a game.”

Tony’s hand had wandered down to his belt and he’d pulled the tongue through the buckle and he flapped it idly while he pretended to think. “So I was thinking, again, hypothetically, that it might be nice...easy on your chest...to lay you out and attempt to suck your brain out through your dick.” He grinned, unbearably smug, up at Steve. “Thoughts?”

“How to say ‘yes, please that’ without sounding desperate?” 

Tony hummed thoughtfully as he rolled over and watched Steve stand up and shuck off his jeans. 

“See somethin’ you like?” Steve asked over his shoulder.

“See somethin’ I’d like to get my hands on,” Tony agreed.

Steve laughed. “Thought you had smooth lines?”

Tony pressed him back into the bed, his hands squeezing the tight curve of Steve’s waist and down over his hips. “Smooth lines are for seduction.”

“And this is--isn’t?” Steve gasped and let his legs fall open as Tony’s clever fingers traced patterns and whorls up the insides of his thighs.

Tony shook his head and laid down, pressing Steve into the mattress with his tightly muscled frame. “Seduction’s temporary. You...you’re permanent….you’re _ink_.”

Steve closed his eyes and let himself sink into sensation as Tony bent and started trailing kisses haphazardly down his neck and across his chest. He paused to lick at Steve’s nipple, the edge of teeth making Steve arch and gasp.

“Jesus God…”

“Mmm, Tony’s just fine,” Tony hummed against the skin of his stomach. 

Steve dug his fingers into Tony’s hair; the sensation of the soft strands a counterpoint to the sucking kisses Tony was layering onto his hips and thighs as he meandered lower. “I thought I was p-promised a lobotomy?”

Tony laughed, his whole face bright and pleased. “Ask and you shall receive.”

Steve gasped as Tony swallowed him to the root, his hands tight on Steve’s hips. Steve writhed down into the tight, wet heat of Tony’s mouth and the teasing swirl of his calloused fingers in the creases of his hips. 

Tony Stark, Steve had realized early in their relationship, sucked cock like he built flying metal suits: with his undivided attention and the full force of his genius. He swirled his tongue over the head of Steve’s cock, making his stomach clench up as pleasure built low in his core. 

“Close…” Steve gasped at the ceiling, too far gone to even mind that the relentless combination of Tony’s mouth and hands were tugging him to the edge quicker than he normally liked.

Tony turned his lovely eyes, gone molten with lust, up to Steve and winked when Steve panted down at him then pursed his lips just a little tighter and slid slowly, _so slowly_ , back down his shaft until Steve could feel his throat squeezing the head of his dick. Steve’s orgasm boiled up from the base of his spine until his shoulders lifted fully off the bed with the force of the aftershocks that rolled through him for what felt like a small eternity.

“C’mere,” Steve demanded, grabbing clumsily for Tony with fingers still tingling with fading sparks of pleasure. “Wanna…”

Tony slid up to sitting, his legs around Steve’s hips, with a sinuous slide of his body against Steve’s spent and sensitive cock. “Wanna…?”

He wrapped a hand around Tony’s leaking cock. “Wanna be yours,” he managed, stroking Tony firmly.

“Oh honey,” Tony rocked into the motion of Steve’s strokes. “You’re already mine.”

Steve added a twist on the upstroke that made Tony groan above him. “Show me?” he begged.

“I--Yeah,” Tony panted, his movements beginning to lose control as Steve brought him closer. 

Steve knew Tony’s orgasm was close when his whole body tensed, priming itself to go loose, and he arched into the rhythm of Tony’s thrusts so the first pulse of his come landed on Steve’s chest. Tony shuddered through his release, a muttered “fu--uck” marking the tipping point into oversensitivity. 

Tony straightened up after a bit, his whole face still hazy and pleasure drunk, and he trailed his fingers through his own come on Steve’s chest. “Now you really are mine.”

Steve laughed. “Never any doubt.”

Later, after they’d cleaned up and crawled back under the covers, Tony reached out and laid his hand gently under his freshly cleaned and lotioned signature on Steve’s skin. “It goes both ways, you know,” he murmured.

Steve hummed and gathered Tony closer, reaching up to comb his fingers through Tony’s damp hair when he rested his head on Steve’s shoulder. “What does?” he asked softly.

“I’m yours.” He sighed and settled more heavily into Steve’s side. “Much as you’re mine.”

“Never any doubt,” Steve repeated.

“T’tan’um c’rb’d,” Tony slurred, mostly asleep.

“What about it?” Steve asked, voice barely audible in the mellow darkness around them.

“Non--” he sighed. “Noncond’ct’v.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tony's so smooth :'D
> 
> So, obviously, if you're following Blind Side Tackle, this happens after the main plot concludes.
> 
> Y'all, this is my first ever bingo event. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.


End file.
